Walk in the Rain
by MarauderMerry
Summary: Anger and vengence... never has a worse combination been joined together in never a worse kind of man... Vicious. This is a story of his mind, and his vengence-plotting thoughts. R&R please!


Walk in the Rain  
  
  
  
  
  
Written by; AngelOfDeathShini  
  
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer; I don't own Cowboy Bebop. BUT SHIT WOULD THAT BE COOL!!!! This is a sort of angst-y. short story about Vicious. I don't really have any pity for Vicious, but this story kinda' goes deeper than most people's opinions of him. This goes into the mind of a psycho. Vicious: What the Hell is that supposed to mean?! Shini: Shhh, niiiiiiicccee Vicious. Here, have a Spike chew toy. Spike: Hey, I'm not a chew-toy!! **Vicious gnaws on Spike's head** Spike: Ouch! Shini: Okay, just get on with the damn story!! Rated; PG-13 (angst.)  
  
  
  
Vicious circled his own dark room like a large, sinister vulture, his face locked in remorse. He slowly sat down on a wooden chair in front of a pane- glass window. The rain beat against the window in fury, but as soon as they hit, they just ran down, creating a pattern of lines and drops on the glass. They hit the window and died, the clouds above that sent them to the Earth rumbling as they watched their victims perish against the glass.  
  
  
  
Vicious envied the clouds.  
  
  
  
He stood up again and, calling his large, ugly, black crow to his shoulder, left the room and walked out into the barrage of rain that felt like hail upon his body.  
  
  
  
How dare she. How dare she do this to him. How dare she enter the arms of another man. and not just any man.  
  
  
  
His best friend. His only brother. The only person he ever trusted.  
  
  
  
If Vicious was the type of man that cried when confronted with remorse, he would have, but Vicious was not that type of man. Instead of sadness, he felt anger, rigid fury at his reflection of betrayal. He blamed both of them equally. They both deserved a fate worse than death.  
  
  
  
Vicious contemplated this notion as he turned into a dark alley with a grimy, black cobblestone street. The lines on his young face were shallow, but when lightning struck, illuminating the entire alley, he looked very old indeed.  
  
  
  
They would remain the Unforgiven in his eyes forever. But how would he punish them in a way that would be infallible, inescapable, and will scar them emotionally as well as physically? Planning a murder wasn't hard for him. but he didn't want to think of it as just murder. Vicious wanted to give the term 'revenge' a whole new meaning. He wanted this page in his story to burn a hole through the book. He wanted something that would satisfy his thirst for blood so much, he would never be thirsty again.  
  
  
  
The crow on Vicious's shoulder took flight to the sky, and as Vicious's eyes followed it upward, he could see the sun trying to shine through the storm. He snickered at the sun's feeble attempts and stopped walking for a moment. This was going to take some thought. He brushed away a wet newspaper on a white bench and slowly sat down. He pulled his coat over himself and lay his head backwards, welcoming the rain falling in his eyes and running down his sallow cheeks. His narrow fingers brushed a few strands of wet hair clinging to his face behind his ear.  
  
  
  
Spike had always been a good person on the inside, and Vicious knew it. He always left Vicious to kill in cold blood. never taking pleasure in his duties for the Red Dragon Syndicate. Even in a glorious battle of blood and gunsmoke, both of them laughing at their pursuers' wasted endeavors. Vicious had always heard empty laughter, clouded eyes, and a hesitant conscious. He smiled as he thought of the time he confronted Spike about it. how he had told Vicious he was being paranoid. Vicious now let a hallow chuckle escape him. how Spike would rue the day he let him notice this.  
  
  
  
Decent people were always the easiest to manipulate. The most well-known fact at the syndicate was that any outside emotions or attachments made you weak. It was just another target. Just another factor to take in. Just another burden.  
  
  
  
And that's exactly what Julia now was to Spike. A burden.  
  
  
  
Vicious had always suspected Julia of never loving him. Whenever they made love, she was never as passionate as he was. She never looked at him in a loving way. there was more fear in her eyes than love. Her betrayal had only briefly drifted to his mind before, but he had always discarded the thought at once, truly believing she would never dare consent to such treachery. She knew all too well his wrath. But she had.  
  
  
  
"And this is your remuneration, Julia." Vicious whispered grimly to himself as he stood up.  
  
  
  
Then, as quickly and as suddenly as the lightning that flashed in the sky, it came to him. The ultimate punishment. The perfect murder that would redefine vengeance.  
  
  
  
Vicious wouldn't kill Spike, no. he would make Julia do it. And if she didn't, they would both die.  
  
  
  
Vicious laughed out loud at his own vindictive cunning. He started walking towards Julia's apartment. he would do it now, the earliness of it would startle and scare her.  
  
  
  
It would not be as perfect if he had made Spike kill Julia, Spike would probably do anything and everything to stop him. No, this way was better, it left Spike, clever Spike, in the dark. while the fretting female would either panic and run, or wallow in misery forever, having killed her lover with her own two hands. The sheer brilliance of it all made Vicious shake with excitement.  
  
  
  
In no time at all, he had arrived at Julia's apartment. To his immense shock, Vicious saw Spike exiting the front door. He quickly and silently ducked behind a corner and snarled. 'He must just be saying good-bye,' thought Vicious. He watched Spike walk a few steps, then turn around. He looked up to Julia's window. Vicious followed his gaze and saw Julia's blonde head in the window frame. Spike finally left, but Vicious waited until Spike had turned round the corner.  
  
  
  
And as he did, he watched many years of friendship burn to ashes that the wind blew away. He saw his only brother turn his back, hunched in his jacket, and abandon him.  
  
  
  
But this only made Vicious angrier.  
  
  
  
As he turned his gaze back towards the window, he saw that Julia was no longer looking out of it. He crossed the sidewalk and stopped at the doors. He stared at the ground as his crow came soaring back to his shoulder.  
  
  
  
Someone 5 feet away from Vicious would have sworn it was the rain, especially someone who knew Vicious, but the common man passing by knew, indeed, that they were tears. Vicious' fists were tightly clasped, his nails drawing blood from his skin. Finally, he clenched his teeth and opened the door.  
  
  
  
He ascended the staircase and walked the hall to Julia's room. He barged through the door and instantly saw Julia, her beautiful blonde hair giving her away. She didn't turn, nor rise, nor scream. she just sat on a chair in front of the window, staring at it. Vicious growled and drew his gun. He pressed it against the back of her head. The first few words that were spoken from each of them, he could hardly hear, his anger blinding him. But the question he was looking for had already been asked:  
  
  
  
"Are you going to kill him?"  
  
  
  
Vicious' twisted lips cracked into a smile.  
  
  
  
"No, Julia. you are. If you don't, you both will die."  
  
  
  
The rest of the words were not heard by Vicious either. But he knew he responded, and left. His chest heavy with satisfaction, he left Julia's apartment. He ambled down the stairs and left the building. And as he took the first few steps down the street, he noticed the rain was coming down harder than ever. He welcomed it, and descended down the block.  
  
  
  
Revenge. the sweetest necter in a field of erotic flowers.  
  
  
  
  
  
The End  
  
  
  
Nice, no? You know what else is nice? Vicious + Spike + bondage = fun for Shini. 


End file.
